High-Sticking and Power Plays
by shortystylee
Summary: Gendry unexpectedly runs into the only other Winterfell Direwolves hockey fan in Kings Landing - Arya Stark. From a tumblr prompt (user astraias): the only two people at a bar rooting for the same football team AU. I know nothing of football, so here's hockey. ModernAU, Pre-Relationship.
1. Chapter 1

The Bear and Maiden Fair Brewpub and Tavern was located on the northwest side of Kings Landing, in an area that had originally been mostly blue-collar, working class type families. The streets twenty, hell, even five years ago had still been lined with shops catering to the daily needs of its residents - a corner grocery, bakery, post office, the normal every day things. In the time it took for Gendry to move away from the area down to Storms End for university and move back, the rising cost of living in Kings Landing was forcing hoards of young professionals away from downtown and other neighborhoods and into his old stomping grounds. There were new stores popping up between the old ones, gradually filling up the two main cross streets with health food stores, pay-by-the-ounce frozen yogurt and cupcake shops, an Urban Outfitters, an upscale Dornish tapas restaurant, you name it. Perhaps most unexpected, The Bear and the Maiden Fair had added 'brewpub' to its name, added a bunch of standard pub food and mounted televisions all over.

He had a job at a graphic design agency located downtown, and he guessed he couldn't complain too much, since just like the rest of them, he'd also moved to that neighborhood to escape the downtown housing costs, not just because he grew up there. The Bear was his favorite spot, his mother had worked a second job there when he was younger and he'd spent many hours sitting at the counter doing his homework. Nowadays, he was there at least twice a week after work, not for dinner, but he simply wanted to get a pint, maybe a plate of chips and salsa, and watch the hockey game on one of the many big screens.

The only issue was that there was no way in the seven hells he was he'd be caught dead cheering on the Crownland Stags. He was used to being the only person rooting for the Winterfell Direwolves. Hockey was big at his school in Storms End, and his freshman year he had watched the Direwolves play a charity game against their minor league affiliate, the Storms End Lightning, and he was head over heels for them since then.

He was getting frustrated at this evening's game, and then just at the beginning of the second period one of the referees blew their whistle, waved his arms to indicate "high sticking" and "Winterfell," and Gendry slammed his fist down on the counter when the two minute penalty was announced.

"Come on! What the hell?! Two minutes for high sticking? I'll show you godsdamned high sticking!"

It was almost like in a movie. Where someone yells and automatically it's like all the sound is vacuumed out of the room, and the crowd turns in unison to stare. Across the bar he saw a young girl standing up yelling, practically fuming over the ref's call. She wore a grey and white Winterfell jersey with the name STARK across the back and the number 11 below it. _Don't see too many Stark jerseys with Ned's number on it these days_, he thought. _It's all golden boy number 3 Robb now_. She was small, he'd noticed since the jersey was practically a dress on her, her short wavy hair spun around in an unruly manner as she shook her fist at the television, and from even thirty feet away he could see something feisty and fiery in the way her eyes lit up in shock. Before he knew what he was doing, he'd picked up his beer and walked over to the booth where she had finally sat down.

"Listen," she started, not bothering to look up and acknowledge him, "I'm sorry if my loudness is interrupting your meal, it's just, well, that call was -"

"That call was shit, was what it was."

She looked up and smile at him, like she'd finally found someone that understood. "Wanna sit down?" she asked, scooting over on the booth, obviously meaning for him to sit on the same side as her so they could both see the big screen. "I figure that maybe us Winterfell fans gotta stick together."

_Oh, what the hell? You've been coming to this bar all the time and this is the first time that any girl has wanted to talk to you... and it just happens to be an attractive one who likes Winterfell._

"'Specially in a Stags bar," Gendry replied and took the seat offered. He introduced himself, learned her name was Arya, but there wasn't as much time for small talk when they were busy yelling at the Direwolves to keep it together during the Stags' power play. He was having a hard time concentrating on the game, when it was much more fascinating to watch her get all worked up, or follow her eyes as they raced along with the puck on the screen, or listen to her whisper, "Come on, Robb, godsdammit you can do this," as he broke away with the puck. It was satisfying to watch Robb Stark get a short-handed goal, but it was even better to cheer along with Arya and help drown out all the groans and boos from the rest of the crowd.

She had jumped up and out of her seat, not much taller than Gendry even though he was sitting down, and then wrapped her arms around him in a messy hug, yelling something along the lines of, "Yes! In your face, Kings Landing!" but he wasn't sure when all he could concentrate on was how close she was to him all of a sudden. A second later, the puck dropped again and she removed her arms from around his shoulders and sat back down, but not before flagging a waitress for two more beers.

He noticed now that the jersey she wore wasn't a new reproduction - usually those were just retired players' names sewn on the back of whatever the current jersey style happened to be. The one she wore was older, a bit faded, and looked like it had seen better days. _Gods, what I wouldn't give for a Ned Stark jersey._

"Not too often you see someone with a Ned Stark jersey," Gendry mentioned during a time out towards the end of the second period. They hadn't made much real conversation at all, they were all loud cheers, harassing the ref, or finding different names to call the Stag players. "Especially one from that era. You know how much those go for on eBay, yea?"

"Well, it's not too often to you see someone in Kings Landing who doesn't root for a Stag or a Lion," she teased. "And yes, I do know how much they go for on eBay. I'm never getting rid of this one though... my dad gave it to me, as a present, years ago. He's not, umm... he passed away, a few years back," she added quietly.

"Hey," he started to say as he sat a bit closer, and maybe against his better judgment grabbed a hold of her left hand that was resting on the booth. "I know. I lost my mom my junior year of university," he said. He took a second to unbutton his work shirt, fully knowing that he was confusing her, but he watched her eyes widen when he reached inside his t-shirt and pulled out a gold seven-pointed star necklace. "It was hers. Don't think I believe in any of it, but that doesn't really matter. I think they'd both want us to enjoy the game though."

"He would," she agreed as the puck dropped again at the end of the time out. "And he'd be over the moon if he'd witnessed Robb's goal. Fuck me, that was awesome."

The last five minutes of the second period were shaping up to be the most exciting the game had seen so far. Arya and Gendry were as loud as they'd ever been, until the Stags forward Blount skated full-force into Direwolf number 45 Umber, cross-checking him into the glass. Both Arya and Gendry jumped to their feet to watch as the rest of both teams rallied around them, sticks were thrown to the wayside, gloves were yanked off, and punches started to fly.

They were both too busy yelling at a nearby table of middle-aged men in Stag t-shirts to notice the general manager walking up from behind.

XxXxX

Five minutes later, they were outside, sitting on the curb underneath an orange street light.

"I cannot believe you got us kicked out of The Bear... shit, I've been coming to this place since before I could see over the counter," Gendry said. He wasn't angry, he'd had an amazing time so far that evening, but knew that getting kicked out was only going to make the time with her come to a close sooner.

"I did _not_ get us kicked out, if anything it was you and your... Wait. Before you could see over the counter?"

He nodded. "My mom used to work here. I'd come after school to do my homework. Wasn't into hockey then, but this place wasn't exactly a sports bar fifteen years ago."

"I'd never have guessed," she said. "I've been into hockey all my life. Raised on the ice, actually. Some of my best memories are playing pond hockey in the winter with my brothers, even my sister would join in, but I think she really just wanted to be a figure skater. I grew up in Winterfell... played high school hockey and some at UW Winterfell, before I transferred down here, but I was nowhere near as good as my brothers or my dad..."

They sat in silence for another moment or so, until Arya looked over at the time on her phone and finally stood up off the curb.

"So, I figure we've got about ten minutes before the third period starts. You wanna come over and watch the rest of the game? I'm just a block or two away."

He watched as she reached her hand out to him, as if a hundred pounds of her could possibly help him stand up, but he took it anyways. _In for a silver, in for a dragon_, he thought, a phrase his mother used to always say to him. She surprised him when she didn't drop his hand immediately after he stood, instead she clung to it until they arrived at the front entrance to her building.

She bent down to get the mail out of the little metal box on the wall next to the door, which was when Gendry noticed the name tag below her apartment number.

"Holy shit...," he managed to eke out. _It's official. I am the stupidest person in all of Westeros._

"Finally figured it out, huh?" she asked. Arya grabbed her mail, shoving it into her messenger bag and locking the mailbox door again. "... took ya long enough."

"Your father is Ned Stark... _the_ Ned Stark... and that jersey... that's _his_ jersey..." Gendry knew he must've looked awful, mouth hanging open and staring at her incredulously.

"Oh, don't go all fanboy on me now, Gendry," she said, pretending to pout. "And just when I was starting to think I liked you."

Forming a coherent sentence was not something he was able to do at that moment. He was too busy processing everything that had happened that night, from meeting another Direwolves fan randomly in Kings Landing, watching Robb Stark - her brother - make a short-handed goal, to getting kicked out of the bar for being too rowdy, to _...wait. Did she just say she likes me?_

Gendry felt her hand grab his again and he looked down at her. "Seven hells, Gendry, snap out of it," she said as she opened the door to her building, tugging him along with her. He followed a step behind her on the stairs. "You've got plenty of time to worship my Winterfell hockey memorabilia later, but I swear to all the gods that if you make me miss any of the third period, you _will_ regret it."


	2. Chapter 2

It's the first time Arya had watched a hockey game with a guy who actually respected the damned game. She'd had plenty of dates over before, all who'd said that they'd love to watch the game with her, but when it came down to it, they couldn't even make it halfway through the first period without trying to get handsy. _This isn't Netflix and chill, this is hockey and pay a-fucking-ttention. It's really not that hard of a concept._

Not Gendry. He followed her up the stairs and into her small studio apartment, which she was happy was big enough to fit a loveseat so that they wouldn't have to awkwardly try to watch the game from the mattress on the floor in the corner, covered in pillows and old blankets, which passed for her bed. She saw him notice the framed posters she had on the wall, some of old Winterfell championship teams with signatures, newspaper pages, and a family picture out on the ice at the local rink back home.

"Have a seat," she said, grabbing the remote from the tiny ledge that separated the galley-style kitchen from the rest of the apartment. She clicked the TV on, and it was already on the correct channel, with the two regular announcers discussing the plays and calls from the previous period. She grabbed two drinks from the fridge, remembering what he'd been drinking earlier at The Bear, along with a family-size back of barbeque potato chips, and joined him to watch the game. The countdown timer in the corner of the screen showed less one minute until the third period starts.

"Just in time," she said as she sat down next to him, setting down the food on the IKEA coffee table that was still littered with whatever she'd snacked on the night before. "I promise, you can check out all my Winterfell stuff once the game is done."

He nodded, looking over at her for a quick second before the intermission was over and the puck was dropping again.

After twenty minutes of nail-biting game play, a ridiculous number of shots on goal, the most adorable group of local school children shoveling the ice during a commercial, the next door neighbors pounding on the wall for them to quiet down, and two penalties on each side, the score was still tied at 2-2.

"Well, at least we get some bonus hockey, right?" Arya said. She was a bit disappointed that the Direwolves hadn't been able to eke out a goal the whole period… she'd texted Robb about a dozen times to tell him to get his team together, even though she knew he wouldn't see it until he was back in the locker room afterwards.

"It's pretty late and I've already invaded your apartment long enough," Gendry replied. "I should probably head home."

She turned to her left and looked at him like his was out of his mind. "What? No, no. You've gotta stay, you can't miss the end of the game," she started. "It's only five minutes and then maybe a shoot-out. _Maybe_. Please don't make me beg. I can make pretty convincing puppy dog eyes when I really need to."

"Alright, alright, but no more beers," he said. "I still need to successfully find my way home after this."

There were four more minutes of tedious action, shots on the Stags goal were blocked, shots on the Direwolves goal were blocked, _thank the gods for Karstark_, Arya thought. Gendry watched silently, hands with white knuckles gripping the edge of the loveseat cushions tightly, with Arya next to him quietly chanting that they could do this, and _just one more goal boys, is that too much to fucking ask right now?_ Arya's hand darted out and grabbed Gendry's when the clocked ticked over to 59 seconds, tearing it away from its death grip on the cushion. Her eyes were still aimed straight at the television, ignoring the surprised look he gave her.

And then, finally, a break. The Direwolves number 17 left winger Jory Cassel seemed to skate down the ice out of nowhere, as if the gods had just dropped him there on purpose. Arya jumped to her feet then, still not letting go of Gendry's hand, as they watched Cassel deke around the Stags defenseman number 24 Balon Swann, hit a shot at goal that bounced off the goalie's skate, but before she had a chance to get angry, Cassel had already rounded the goal and back-handed the loose puck past the goal line.

The buzzer went off loudly, the crowd erupted in cheers, and then Gendry was on his feet, arms going around Arya before she had a chance to stop him. Their second hug of the night, though this one was a bit different. It wasn't loud cheers and half-hugging while messily jumping up and down in a bar, surrounded by fifty other people, or how she'd hugged strangers next to her during games before. This was much quieter, calmer, and they were alone in her apartment, and one of his hands had somehow found itself to her hair and -

"You wanna check out these posters before you head home?" Arya said, pulling away from him.

"Um, yea. Of course," he replied. She walked over to the wall across from where the loveseat was, watching as his eyes grew wider as he got closer to the posters, the awe blatantly visible across his face, like he'd never imagined that he'd see these anywhere else except maybe a computer screen. She explained what some were, even though for most it was pretty obvious. There were a couple of championship posters, the kind that came out the day after a win, folded into the sports section of the newspaper, except hers were signed by all the players and framed. Next to those were a number of little shelves with game pucks on display, some signed, some looking much worse for the wear, and one shelf had part of a broken wooden hockey stick, the black tape around the bottom faded and frayed off as the glue dried. "That one is mine," she explained, "The first time I'd ever played hard enough to break a stick. I was five."

Further down the wall is a framed family photo of who she says is 'everyone' on a huge lake, surrounded by snow-covered mountains, and next to that, a yellowed and faded newspaper front page, a group of players holding up the cup and celebrating their win. The headline was simple, _Direwolves Bring Back the Cup_, and it was dated June 10, 1985. "That was my dad's first," Arya said. "Nineteen years old and all the opportunity in the world."

She knew how she sounded when she said that, voice low, tinged with emotion. _Stop it, Arya. Do not get emotional about this_. She also knew the exact meaning behind that look he was giving her, and she'd already told herself she wasn't going to jump into anything tonight. It was late, she had work in the morning, and despite how attracted she was to him, she didn't want this to end up as a one-night stand.

She yawned, not bothering to cover her mouth, and made the excuse of work, since it is a Thursday, _well, Friday now_, she thinks, and goes to turn off the TV as he grabs his jacket off the back of a kitchen chair.

He fussed with the zipper and collar on his jacket, then looked between her and the door a time or two before he got up the courage to speak. "Listen, I know it's been a pretty crazy night for both of us, what with getting kicked outta the Bear and all, but can I give you my number?"

_Hold up. He gets more adorable when he's nervous? How is this possible? _

"Oh, you mean so you don't have to be lonely when you watch this Saturday's game?"

"Exactly," he replied. "Except I was thinking maybe at my place? It doesn't have quite the Hockey Hall of Fame vibe that yours does, but the TV is much bigger."

"You're on."

They exchanged numbers, passing iPhones with almost identical black leather cases back and forth. She's already hugged him twice tonight, so she figures once more won't hurt, but she makes sure it's quick, and then tells him she'll send him a message tomorrow to get plans made for Saturday. She watched him walk down the stairs and out the main door of the building, partially because the front door has a habit of sticking, but mostly because she just wanted to.

She locked the deadbolt, pulled off her dad's jersey as she crossed her apartment, and then hung it up on the hanger, its spot to live until the next game. She quickly changed into a t-shirt to sleep in, crawling into bed with her laptop and turning off the lights. The light of the laptop did a good job of illuminating the little 'bedroom' corner of her studio, and she let her eyes adjust for a moment before she opened up iMessage, then clicked on _Sansa Stark_, frantically typing out a stream of consciousness message.

_You'll never believe me, but I met a guy tonight. Who loves hockey. And the Direwolves. We're watching the Saturday game at his place, and it's just ughhhh I don't even know what this is, but there's something there and… gods. Fuck. I'll call you at lunch tomorrow. I need to get some sleep._

She closed the laptop, knowing she'd wake up to a million messages from Sansa in the morning. That night, she dreams of pond hockey back at the lake house an hour outside of Winterfell, of her playing right wing, with Robb at left and her father taking forward. It was all the same, a game they'd played thousands of times, messing around on the ice with Rickon in goal, him telling everyone not to go easy on him just because he's the youngest. Arya has the puck and when she scans the ice for someone to pass to, she notices Gendry is there now, in the defense position. He's comically overdressed for what is considered mild in Winterfell, wobbling around on his skates like a newborn giraffe and trying to use the hockey stick he's holding to help steady himself. She passes the puck to Robb, then skates over to Gendry, offering her arm out to him. _Someone's gotta teach this boy how to skate_.


End file.
